


Finding a Dream

by thatonedimstar



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Character, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, No ACOSF Spoilers, Post-ACOFAS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonedimstar/pseuds/thatonedimstar
Summary: Isabella Ashborough, a resident of the Night Court’s Hewn City, had become accustomed to the fact that she would never be truly free. She’d never be able to see the sun or marry who she wished. One day, an old friend appears and offers Isabella a life where she was the mistress of her own fate. The only condition: Isabella had to become her secretary.Little does she know, it’ll be the best decision she ever made.
Relationships: Morrigan (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Morrigan (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

## Chapter One

A silence had fallen over Hewn City. The kind of silence that hummed with a promise of chaos. No one dared to breathe too deeply or look at the wrong person for too long. Soon, the silence would unravel and chaos would descend upon every poor soul that resided in this rotted city. Isabella could feel it in her very bones. A sixth sense, as a dear friend had once said a long, long time ago.

Her father, despite the early hour, was already brimming with anger. He demanded that his servants keep him updated on what’s going on down in the City, yet he barked at them to stop annoying him whenever they approached. Instead of speaking gently to his wife—Lady Estelle—like he normally did for the one day a week they spent together, he ignored every quiet plea she gave. Isabella could hear Mother’s voice echoing down the barren halls of her father’s obscenely large mansion:

“Donovan, please, dear, nothing is going to happen. It’s just whispers.”

Then Lord Ashborough—never Father or Donovan—replied, “Whispers have meanings, Estelle. Maybe your soft mind has forgotten that over the years of you stewing in your pristine little palace, hording our daughter away like some precious jewel.”

“At least I don’t treat her like a bargaining chip!” Mother raised her voice. The sound was so foreign that Isabella set down the book she had been trying to read. “She’s not some item to be traded away. The whole of Hewn City knows that. If you hadn’t planted the idea in the minds of every high-ranking official that she was on the market, Lady Morrigan probably wouldn’t be coming here to make sure that she is fit for marriage.”

Isabella froze. Marriage? Sure, it had been a topic over the last few centuries, but Mother always made sure that Isabella would marry when she wanted to, and not a day before that. It seemed that Lord Ashborough had acted on his own accord.

At least now she knew why the whole of Hewn City was holding their breath: nothing good ever came from Lady Morrigan visiting. Someone disappeared, a new law was put in act, or—Cauldron forbid—the High Lord decided that his presence was needed. Though, she’d be lying if she said watching some of the toughest lords squirm in their pants wasn’t amusing.

“She’s nearly 540! She’s a disgrace to the family name. The least she could do is surrender herself to a man for a few days a week to produce him an heir. You can have her back afterwards.”

Isabella’s heart fluttered anxiously. The idea of surrendering herself to any man made her physically sick. The idea of touching a man make her skin crawl with disgust. It’s the only reason why she had abstained from marriage for so long. It was just a stroke of luck that her mother supported that decision whole-heartedly. But, she supposed, all good things had to end. Even if laying with a man was the most dreadful thing she had ever thought of doing.

Mother scoffed, her heeled shoes clicking on the floor as she stepped away. Mother’s voice calmed, retaking it’s feather-like quality. “We’ll see if Lady Morrigan thinks Bella is ready for marriage. If yes, then I guess I will start looking for a fortunate match. If not, then… I want her to live with me full time.”

Lord Ashborough was quiet for a long time. The very air seemed to hold its breath. “Sure. Whatever you want, sweetheart. But I assure you, our daughter is more than ready for marriage. If you’ve been as good of a parent as I, then she’s still a virgin.” He choked on a laugh. He muttered under his breath, “A virgin at five-hundred. Unbelievable.”

Unbelievable was right. Little did Lord Ashborough know, Isabella was not, in any way, a virgin. Again, it was by luck that Mother chose to keep that secret a special mother-daughter thing. It was possible that Mother didn’t actually see Isabella’s sexual relations as valid, since she had only ever been with women, but she doubted it. She had seen how attentive Mother was with her closest female friend. How their visits always extended into the late nights. How they always ended up, together, in the bedroom.

Isabella flinched as a knock sounded through the cavernous halls around her. She looked back down at her book and pushed herself further into the alcove she had found herself in. She tugged the heavy woollen blankets tighter around her waist and turned her nose toward the frosted-over window. Through the haze, she could see street lamps illuminating the many paths and the High Fae and lesser faeries that walked them. The High Fae wore elegant dresses and fine suits, the lesser faeries wore browns and blacks and greys so that they could hope to blend into the surrounding rock.

Distantly, she heard the butler greet whoever had knocked on the door. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, uh,” the person answered. “The Lady Morrigan has arrived. She’s requested Lord Ashborough, Lady Heartstone, and Lady Isabella’s presence in the Grand Chamber. Immediately, sir.”

Isabella’s hands started to sweat. Her heart beat faster and her lungs constricted. This was real. She would have to show herself in front of Lady Morrigan. Be stripped bare. Be asked questions that no one had the right to ask. Then, she would be judged and proved either fit or unfit for marriage. Either way, her life was over. She’d be seen as a disgrace and barred from any reputable home or she would have to suffer a man controlling every second of her life.

A moment later, the butler was standing at the edge of the alcove, his hand brushing back the dark blue velvet curtains. “Lady Morrigan has requested your presence, my lady.”

She swallowed and pushed the blankets off of her, letting them pool on the floor at her feet. “Do I have time to change or freshen up?”

“I’m afraid not—”

Mother interrupted him with her light voice, “Come now, Bella.” She glared at the butler until he went past her, probably going to find Lord Ashborough. She smiled her gentle I’ll-always-love-you smile and held a hand out. “Lady Morrigan probably just wants to make sure we’re still loyal. Nothing huge.”

Isabella licked her lips and took in her mother: Her stance was steady and elegant. Her blue eyes were kind and sparkling—a rarity in the Hewn City. Her brown hair—the same as Isabella’s—was done up in a beautiful array of jewels and ribbons. They all matched the jewelry covering her and the heavy layers of her orange gown. She was an absolute vision and confident in a way that Isabella could never hope to be.

Mother didn’t give Isabella any more time to consider. She grabbed onto her hand and guided her to her feet. “Lord Ashborough will join us soon, all right? We shouldn’t keep the Lady waiting.”

As soon as Mother made sure Isabella was following, she dropped her hand. The halls they walked through were uninviting, cold and empty.

They made the long, freezing walk through the streets of the Hewn City. When they finally arrived at the Grand Chamber, it was nearly ten minutes later and Lord Ashborough still hadn’t showed up. The Grand Chamber—which was really a throne room, though no one dared call it that—was packed full with High Fae and lesser faeries alike. The room was near-sweltering and the sound of high, tense words instantly prompted a headache to pound at her temples.

The crowd parted to let Isabella and her mother through. Whispers erupted from the painted lips of ladies, hidden behind gloved hands. The lords murmured among themselves, never raising their voices enough to be discernible by anyone but the person they were talking to.

She prayed they couldn’t hear her thundering heart or smell her sweat on her hands, but she knew otherwise. This place was a deathtrap and she would be lucky to walk out with all her limbs in place.

“Lady Heartstone,” a velvet-smooth voice drawled. “It’s been too long.”

Mother reached the edge of the crowd and curtsied to Lady Morrigan. Isabella nearly forgot to curtsy herself at the sight of the beautiful woman she had once called her friend. Over five-hundred years ago, they’d been friends. Long before Morrigan had been known as Lady Morrigan or the High Lord’s Third or, her least favourite, the overseer. Those memories were nothing but a fog now, swirling around in the back of her mind. They paled in comparison to the real thing. They always did.

Morrigan sat on an ornate dark wood chair. It wasn’t exactly a throne, but she certainly made it look like one. She held her head high, like a crown sat on top of her head. The jewelry laid carefully over every stretch of sun-tanned skin was extravagant, even to Hewn City standards. Her brown eyes glinted mischievously and her smile was a predator’s, warning any and everyone to stay the hell away. The thin red layers of her gown rested around her, a slit in the skirt showing a large expanse of leg. No male dared to even glance at it. They knew what would happen if they did.

“It has, my Lady,” Mother said. She purposely stood in front of Isabella. Thankfully, she didn’t block her view of Morrigan. “Pray tell, how are the High Lord and High Lady doing?”

Chaos erupted in the form of words, swirling around in a cacophony of voices, angry at Mother for mentioning their rulers. Isabella resisted the urge to wince and instead lowered her eyes to the smooth grey-veined marble beneath her feet. Everyone quieted, probably because of a searing glare from Lady Morrigan.

“They’re both doing fantastic. Thank you for asking.”

All of it was a dance around the real topic. A very tense, overly formal dance. Isabella was glad she didn’t have to take part in it. However, she was sure that wouldn’t last for too long.

“Now,” Morrigan continued, “let’s talk about your daughter.”

“What about her?” Mother asked, her voice tense.

Isabella took in a deep breath and raised her eyes, only to find Morrigan watching her. The weight of her threaded-brown eyes settled into her bones, heavy and insistent. It became hard to breathe. It felt as if someone had sat on top of her chest.

“I heard she’s ready for marriage. After five-hundred years of remaining single.” Morrigan didn’t lift her eyes from Isabella once. Isabella didn’t dare look away. Not because of any repercussions, but because she simply couldn’t. Lady Morrigan’s full attention pulled on her every sense, heightening them to the point where she could feel every minute breeze working its way through the hall and hear every quiet heartbeat.

Mother swallowed. “Yes. Both her father and I have agreed that it’s time.”

“Step aside,” Morrigan said, making a dismissive gestured with her hand. Mother glanced over her shoulder at Isabella, a flash of pity crossing her face. She mastered her expression and curtsied quickly, moving aside and melting into the crowd, disappearing among everyone else. Morrigan stood up and took a very pointed step forward. Her dress fell over her body perfectly, highlighting all the right curves and dips. “Come forward.”

Isabella took three steps forward. She felt everyone’s eyes on her back, the weight of them incomprehensible. She wanted to melt into the ground. She wanted to cry. She wanted to surrender. Some would say that was cowardice, but Isabella would call it a good survivors instinct.

Morrigan tilted her head as she surveyed Isabella. She started at the tips of her feet and the black silk slippers there, lifting her eyes over the silk brocade green gown, to the brown hair that rested over her shoulders, over the planes of her face and, lastly, Morrigan met Isabella’s eyes.

“Have you ever had sexual relations with a man?” Morrigan asked, taking a step backward and lowering herself down on her throne-that-no-one-dare-call-a-throne.

Isabella bit her lip and took in a shuddering breath. Some men in the back snickered and were immediately silenced by a stare. There’d be no use trying to get out of this. She could get this done, go home, and finish the book she’d been reading. She could forget about the day. Then, tomorrow, she’d deal with any and all consequences.

“No,” Isabella answered honestly.

Morrigan rested her chin on a fist and hummed. The epitome of elegant boredom.

Everyone knew that Morrigan had the ability to tell truth from lie. That’s exactly why Morrigan questioned—interrogated, really—possible high-ranking brides. And since both of her parents ruled a lordship, she was deemed high-ranking enough to required Morrigan’s approval.

“Do you want to get married?” Morrigan asked, crossing her legs.

“Yes,” Isabella answered like the obedient daughter she was.

Morrigan sighed and looked to Lord Ashborough, who had come up beside Mother sometime in the last few minutes. She stared at him for a few heartbeats then turned her attention to the next person waiting to be subject to her lie-detecting abilities. “Your daughter isn’t ready yet. Bring her back to me in six months. We’ll see if she’s ready then.”

Mother was at Isabella’s side in a moment, grabbing onto her hand and tugging her through the crowds. Everyone gawked at them, though Mother paid them no attention, so Isabella didn’t either.

They exited the stifling Grand Chamber and marched across the worn black stones that made up the most of Hewn City with a pace that had Isabella’s breath rasping in her chest. Isabella tried to slow down so that she could catch her breath, but Mother wouldn’t relent. She was a storm barrelling down the streets, making the scarce amount of people walking along jump aside. No one with half a mind would put themselves in front of Mother when she was like this. Her wrath was known to burn steady and hot, without any barriers and without any way to calm it.

Isabella heard Lord Ashborough’s steps loud and fast behind her, prompting her heart to beat even faster. She couldn’t make herself look back to see how close he truly was. She didn’t even have to, because a few steps later, he grabbed onto her wrist and yanked her backward.

Pain tore through her shoulders and wrists, pulled like a rag-doll between her two parents. Mother let go of Isabella, and she crumbled to the cold ground. The pain, paired with the hyperventilation, made her feel detached from her body. Lord Ashborough didn’t let go of her, even with all of her weight pulling down on his hand. Stars speckled her vision and the world moved like liquid beneath her.

“Let go of her!” Mother demanded, near yelling. “You said if Lady Morrigan deemed her unready for marriage, she could come home with me. She’s not a failure, Donovan! Six months. She’ll be ready in six months, I promise.”

Isabella got her senses back for long enough that she could see as Lord Ashborough dropped her hand and stepped forward. The first thing she heard was the horrid flesh-on-flesh snap. Then she saw Mother lifting her hand to her reddening cheek. The salty scent of tears filled the air, but no tears fell from her eyes. It took a moment for Isabella to realize that she was the one crying, not her Mother.

“You conniving bitch,” Lord Ashborough snarled.

Mother lifted her chin and dropped her hand away from her face. “People are watching,” she said gently. “Let me bring Bella home, then I’ll find you so that we can talk.”

Lord Ashborough cast a glance around them and noticed that people were, in fact, watching. He sighed and looked down at Isabella.This had to be the lowest point of his life. His daughter was a failure, his wife was working against him, and his only son and heir was an idiot with a wife who couldn’t produce a child, even after four-hundred years of trying.

He raised his eyes to Mother then turned around with a snarl and started back toward the Grand Chamber. Mother, as a woman, wasn’t required to be there, but Lord Ashborough was a man and a lord, so he was required to be there for however long Lady Morrigan thought she needed to be here for.

Mother glared at the lesser faeries standing around until they backed away into the shadows of the alleys. Then she came in front of Isabella and crouched down. Her one cheek was blazing red, but she seemed unbothered. It had to hurt, though. Lord Ashborough was strong and he hadn’t held back when he’d slapped her.

She said quietly, “Okay, here’s the plan: We’ll go to my palace, you can have some lunch, I’ll have a bath, and then I’ll find someone to come in and help you get ready to be married.” Her features softened. “I’m sorry.”

Isabella merely nodded and allowed her mother to guide her home.

She supposed that she had to get married at some point. And since she would, hopefully, marry a ranking lord, she’d be able to attend all the Grand Chamber sessions. Then she’d be able to see Lady Morrigan every two months. Maybe that would make the whole marriage thing worth it. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

## Chapter Two

Isabella woke to a light knock at her door. She stirred and pushed her face into the feather-filled pillows that adorned her bed. She groaned, tugging the heavy blankets over her shoulders. The lavender scent coating them drifted up her nose, lulling her back to sleep.

The knock sounded again. Louder, this time.

She whimpered and propped herself up on an elbow. Her tangled brown hair fell over her shoulders and tickled the skin of her neck. She opened her eyes, but she couldn’t see anything. Her curtains were pulled closed and all the candles were nothing but wisps of smoke that teased her nose. The light from the hall wasn’t even leaking into her room.

“It’s time to get up, Lady Isabella,” one of the housemaids said hesitantly. “Your marriage trainer will be here in a little over an hour and your mother wishes to eat breakfast with you.”

Marriage trainer. As if someone needed to train to be a wife. At least, in her mind, marriage wasn’t some type of job or something that she had to train for. It was supposed to be sacred and beautiful. A bond between two people who loved the other more than life itself. But, as Mother often said, “Daydreams are meant to stay like that: dreams.” That little sentence had changed her life. She would’ve learned it sooner or later, anyway.

There was another knock and Isabella made herself say, “I’m up.” Though, to be honest, she was still half-asleep and would probably remain that way until the marriage trainer left.

The door opened and golden candlelight flooded the room. Isabella squinted her eyes and laid back down as the housemaid drifted into the bedroom. She opened the curtains to let in the same orange candlelight from the many lamps in the streets and front yards surrounding the Heartstone Palace. They were meant to mimic sunlight, but Isabella doubted actual sunlight was this dreary.

Again, that was a daydream that would always stay a dream. She’d never feel the sun on her skin or even be able to see a ray of pure, unfiltered sunlight. She’d live and die here in this mountain of horrors. Where screams echoed down the streets and sisters and fathers were found dead practically every morning.

The housemaid got Isabella up, dressed, draped in jewelry, and out into the dining room in under twenty minutes. Her hair was a limp, dead thing on her head, but unless she wanted to have a bath and be late to her training session, she would have to deal with it. Hopefully, her marriage trainer wouldn’t take that as a flaw.

Mother was sitting in one of the parlours, nibbling on bits of jerky and cutting small pieces of apple. A rarity in Hewn City. Something that only the nobles had access to. And, as always, Mother was beautiful in her deep purple velvet gown and silver accessories. Isabella was guiltily happy that Mother’s hair, too, was lifeless. She had to admit that it still looked ten times better than Isabella’s, with strings of black ribbons braided in.

“Good morning, dear,” Mother greeted, holding out a piece of sliced apple to Isabella. She took it and bit off half, sitting down in the chair across from her mother. “There’s a letter for you. From Lady Morrigan.”

Isabella’s hand paused mid-air as she went to take her second bite. “Really?”

“Yes.” Mother flashed a smile, though it was quickly smoothed over by a worried frown. “You should open it, damn the consequences. It’s a letter. It’s already here.”

That was a daydream, a wish, but sometimes dreams were good. Dreams sprouted hope. And, for all the good in this chaos-and-death-ridden world, a little hope was good every once in a while. Especially when Isabella’s life was being turned upside down and twisted into something that would be barely recognizable.

Isabella’s hand continued its path to the letter. She picked it up and brought it before her. Her hands shook as she unfolded the paper, her heartbeat slightly erratic. What could she want? What could she possibly have to say to Isabella, a forgotten childhood friend? The letter read: “So the Court of Nightmares hasn’t killed you. That’s one of the best things I’ve heard this month. I can sleep a little better now, knowing that your light hasn’t been snuffed. I’ll see you in five months.”

A smile teased the corner of her lips. Morrigan hadn’t changed much, despite the facade that she always put on when visiting Hewn City. She was still kind. Still caring. Still far too bright to ever be extinguished by the darkness of her birthplace.

“She isn’t hoping to rekindle your friendship, is she?” Mother asked, ever observant.

Isabella shook her head and folded the letter. She tucked it into the pocket of her gown and took a sip of tea to hide the smile that still had its place on her lips.

She’d be more than happy to become Morrigan’s friend again, but now there was too much of a rift between them. In both rank and decadence. Over five-hundred years ago, it had been touchy. With Morrigan being the daughter of the Steward, and all. Even Isabella, as the daughter of a regnant lord and lady, had been on the edge of not worthy.

Now… It was a whole different story.

Morrigan was Lady Morrigan. Third in Command to the High Lord of the Night Court. The Hewn City overseer. She had risen high above her rank and had become someone that people feared and revered. And Isabella was… Isabella. She was still a lord’s daughter. She was still unmarried. No one respected her. No one bowed before her. She didn’t know how to wield a sword or wield her words. The only skills she had was avoiding people she didn’t want to talk to and organizing a household. Those were laughable when compared to what Morrigan had.

“She probably doesn’t remember me,” Isabella said.

Mother clicked her tongue and leaned back in her chair. “You’re the only friend Lady Morrigan had when she was a girl. If she has even a silver of a heart, she’d remember you.”

“I suppose,” Isabella muttered, watching the stray tea leaves float around her cup.

For some reason, Morrigan remembered her. That alone made her feel warm. Happy. But she didn’t know what that meant. Did Morrigan care about her? Or did she merely send a letter to be courteous? Isabella shook her head, casting those thoughts aside. There was no use worrying about it. In the end, she’d either get married or never be allowed to show her face.


	3. Chapter 3

## Chapter Three

The Grand Chamber, as always, was the hottest room in all of Hewn City. The air was heavy with body heat and the smell of sweat. Isabella couldn’t even convince herself to enjoy the beauty of all the women. Their flowing gowns and delicate perfumes.

Mother pushed her way through the crowd, using sharp words that had everyone backing away. Isabella trailed Mother so close that her shoes caught onto the trail of her dress. She wanted to get this done as quick as possible.

“Lady Morrigan,” Mother greeted, curtsying before Morrigan. Isabella followed suit, making a point not to look up at Morrigan. Seeing her would set Isabella on edge, and she wanted to hold onto her wits for as long as she could. She liked being able to breathe easily and not having her heart beating out of her chest.

“Lady Heartstone,” Morrigan returned. Just the sound of her voice had Isabella’s pulse quickening. Fear or excitement, she had no idea. Morrigan sighed. “Let’s get this done with. Isabella, step forward.”

Mother stepped aside to blend into the crowd and Isabella took in a deep breath. She took a step forward and forced herself to look up at Morrigan. 

The world fell away and there was nothing but Lady Morrigan in all of her glory. She was bedecked in silver and diamond jewelry. Draped in the most fiery orange gown that Isabella had ever seen. It wasn’t, she noticed, her usual red gown. Her hair wasn’t how it usually was, either. Today, it was piled on top of her head in an elegant display of braids and sparkling pins. The thing that drew her eye the most were the two orange flowers that rested near her temple.

She’d never actually seen flowers before. Yes, she’d seen paintings of them. In lessons, she’d read books about flowers and flower arranging, despite the fact that no flower could ever exist in such a light-barren place. But none of the images could possibly compare to the alluring beauty of the real thing. Even from this distance, Isabella could see the delicate veins running through the petals. For some reason, she ached to touch them. To smell them. To see a field of them running on forever before her very eyes. She would just about die if she ever got the chance.

“Have you had sex since our last meeting?”

Morrigan’s voice drew Isabella’s head down from its dream state. She blinked out of the daze and looked back to Morrigan’s caramel eyes. Like the rest of her appearance, they were different, too. Gentler. Kinder.

“No,” she answered swiftly. It’s not as if she would’ve had the time, anyway, between the lessons. 

Morrigan nodded slowly. All Isabella could notice was the fact that the flowers didn’t move. They simply sat there, beautiful and poised. Just like Morrigan sitting on her makeshift throne.

“Are you ready for marriage now?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you want do be married?” Morrigan asked, leaning against the back of her throne. Isabella’s eyebrows furrowed. She forced them to smooth out. Was there even a difference between those two?

“Yes.”

Morrigan fidgeted with one of her rings, spinning it around her finger. “How is your penmanship?”

That was a very odd question, but Morrigan had been doing this for over three centuries now. She knew what questions to ask and she knew what answers she wanted. It wasn’t Isabella’s place to judge what was and what wasn’t a good question.

“Pretty good, I think,” Isabella said, the confidence draining from her voice. Someone snickered, another person laughed. Blood rushed to Isabella’s cheeks. She wanted to do nothing more than melt into the ground and disappear forever. This was an absolute mess. Her life was over and everything was breaking apart before her very eyes. 

Morrigan raised her voice and said with a heavy venom that didn’t match her eyes, “If anyone but Isabella utters a single sound, I’ll randomly select ten of you and send you to the dungeons for a little playtime with the Spymaster.” 

Isabella winced. Morrigan ran her eyes over the crowds as they fell into a deadly silence, letting them see the true threat that shone in her eyes. Once everyone had thoroughly silenced, Morrigan looked back to Isabella and offered a sincere smile that was soon replaced by a deadly smirk. She propped her elbow on the arm of the throne and brought a hand in front of her mouth, so close that her lips brushed against her rings.

“How fast can you write?” Morrigan asked.

“Fast enough,” Isabella said half-heartedly, waiting for the burn of embarrassment to come from some snickering lords. But it never came. No one made a sound.

“How good is your memory?”

“Very good,” Isabella answered readily. “I can remember most of what happened in my teenage years.”

Morrigan’s eyebrows rose in slight surprise, but there was no other show of her emotions. She sat straighter in the throne, her hand dropping away from her face to rest in her lap.

“Well, you’re clearly not ready for marriage,” Morrigan said, and the world started to fall away from beneath her feet. She’d failed so, so bad. Her father would never face her again and Mother would be so very disappointed. Her life was over. “I do, however, have another option for you: Be my secretary.”

Isabella could feel the air turn tense with unsaid words. There were about a million thoughts racing through her mind. She could only imagine what everyone else was thinking. What they were assuming about Isabella and her parents. 

“What?” Isabella blurted, voicing the question that many probably had.

“I want you to be my secretary.” 

It didn’t sound like an offer. Really, it sounded like Morrigan had already made the decision and, no matter what Isabella or anyone else said, Isabella would be her secretary. Being her secretary did sound better than being married to some old man who didn’t care about her wellbeing. 

What would being a secretary even entail? What would she have to do? Where would she even live? If she was expected to move to the palace sitting on top of the mountain, then she’d finally be able to see the sun. She’d be able to feel fresh wind on her skin and the sun on her face. It sounded like absolute ecstasy. She’d even marry some stinky man if she was allowed to go outside once. If she could remain unmarried and see the outside world… it had to be some sort of dream.

Morrigan, noticing Isabella’s muteness, waved forward Lord Ashborough. “As Isabella’s father, do you give me permission to take her as my secretary?”

Now, it sounded like Isabella was a piece of property. However, she supposed if this exchange ended with her seeing the sun, it would be worth it. Every achingly boring afternoon would be wiped from memory in favour of the beauty that she’d undoubtedly witness as soon as she left this hell scape.

“As long as you compensate me,” Lord Ashborough said, and Morrigan shrugged, as if she had been expecting that.

“Naturally.” Morrigan waved him off. “You’ll receive your money in a few days. And so, Estelle—shall I call you Estelle?—since you’re Isabella’s mother and a lady of your own, I must ask you for permission to make her my secretary.”

Isabella found her Mother’s eyes. She looked concerned, slightly puzzled, but mostly concerned. She worried the cuff of her sleeve, though her breaths remained even. They always did. No matter what, Mother always remained calm. Even when Isabella knew a storm was brewing underneath her finely carved facade.

Mother looked to Isabella, searched her face, then looked back to Morrigan. Apparently, she had come to a decision.

“Would I be able to see her?” Mother asked, her voice smooth and confident, as if she weren’t about to lose her only daughter and dearest child. 

“As often as I permit,” Morrigan said, her voice veiled with secrecy.

Mother said, “If she wants to be your secretary, then yes. If she says no, then I’ll say no.”

Morrigan clasped her hands together and changed her focus to Isabella. She smiled in the most innocent yet persuasive way possible and leaned forward. “So, Lady Isabella, how would you like to be my secretary?”

Isabella swallowed and looked to Lord Ashborough, who watched her in anticipation. He wanted her to agree. He wanted her to become Lady Morrigan’s secretary. Mother, however, looked like she would rather cling onto Isabella for dear life and drag her back home than let her waltz off into the world with an almost-stranger. Though Isabella was five-hundred years old. Most girls left their home at twenty. She was just a very, very late bloomer.

Before she could change her mind, Isabella bowed her head and said, “It would be an honour, my Lady.”

Lady Morrigan stood up and looked to Mother. “Pack her things. I’ll send someone to pick them up in two hours. Say goodbye to your daughter, because it’ll probably be a while until you see her again.”

Not even a heartbeat later, Isabella was encased in her mother’s arms. They were like steel bands, holding her in place. It was such a tight hug that it became difficult to breathe. Yet, she didn’t move. She stayed still, letting Mother say goodbye. Letting her hold her daughter in her arms for once last time before she became a true woman and travelled out into the world. Mother would be losing her baby girl. She deserved to give a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Bella,” Mother whispered, so low that no one else could hear, even in this deadly silent room. “Go find a reason to be proud of yourself.”

Isabella smiled, her eyes turning watery with tears. Mother stepped away and offered a smile before she turned around and drifted through the crowds, undoubtedly on her way to get someone to pack Isabella’s stuff. Lord Ashborough, on the other hand, merely gave Isabella a smile and followed after Mother. No heart-felt goodbyes from him. Not that she had expected one, anyway. He’d always been distant, especially with her.

Lady Morrigan brushed past Isabella and said, “Follow me,” without so much as glancing at her. The crowd parted and bowed before Morrigan but rose just in time to glare at Isabella as she tried to match her steps with Morrigan’s long strides. She was sure that by the time they got to wherever they were going, her legs were going to be literal jelly. Hopefully it would be worth it and she wasn’t walking into some sort of torture trap. She’d never forgive herself for being so selfish.

They walked down streets clustered with High Fae that lowered their eyes and curtsied at the sight of Morrigan. They shimmied down alleyways that were barren save for a few lesser faeries who shrunk away at the presence of Lady Morrigan’s magic. By the time they got to an dark, empty room, Isabella felt like she was going to pass out from the pain rippling through her legs.

Isabella’s heart started to beat faster and her lungs constricted painfully at the complete blackness of the room. The air was heavy and cold. It smelled like moistness and mold. Was this the plan? To bring her to some back room and murder her?

Not even a heartbeat later, many candles flickered to life around the room. And, as she had expected, it was completely barren. There wasn’t a piece of furniture other than the many candle stands. It was just… empty. She was relieved that no matter how deeply she breathed, she couldn’t scent a trace of blood.

“Are you ready to see the outside world?” Morrigan asked, breaking the absolute silence of this creepy ass room.

Isabella took in a deep breath and looked to Morrigan, only for her breath to be knocked out of her once again. She looked like the version Isabella remembered from childhood. Her smile was gentle and inviting and her eyes glowed with a level of sincerity that she had never seen from anyone else, not even Mother. Her posture was relaxed yet assured, as if she knew that she was the most beautiful thing Isabella had ever laid her eyes on.

“I don’t know,” Isabella said quietly, all previous confidence leaking from her.

Then Morrigan grinned, full and reassuring, and she stopped worrying. Morrigan stepped forward, holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

“We’re just going to go up to the palace,” Morrigan said, gesturing to the ceiling. “You can look at the sky and mountains. Have something to eat. Then you can settle into the bedroom I had made up for you.”

“What about work?” Isabella dared to asked.

Morrigan waved her hand, dismissing the idea. “We can worry about that later. After you’ve gotten used to living somewhere new.” Isabella sighed and nodded. Morrigan held out a hand and said, “Let me show you freedom.”

Isabella took Morrigan’s hand and the world turned around her. The ground fell away and everything turned black as they winnowed through space.

Then the world steadied and the ground rose back up to meet her feet. She stumbled away from Morrigan, the room around them so bright that Isabella swore she was blinded. She squeezed her eyes closed. Even that wasn’t enough to block out the searing light. She brought her hands over her eyes and pressed down, trying to hide from the light.

“Take your time,” Morrigan said from beside Isabella. “I know it took me a few minutes to fully adjust to the sun. Though it might take you longer, since you’ve been living without sun for centuries, and I had only lived without it for two decades.”

“So you do remember me?” Isabella asked, keeping her hands on her eyes. She was too stunned by the light to worry about courtesy or protocol.

“Of course.” She could hear the smile in Morrigan’s voice. “It’s impossible not to. You’re the only person who was never intimidated by my father. And you’re the only true friend I had down there. That meant a lot to me.”

Isabella hummed, just to signal that she had heard, and dropped her hands away from her eyes. It was so impossibly bright. But she didn’t want to hide away. She wanted to be able to see the sun. She wanted to see the way the world looked, bathed in light. She wondered how beautiful it would look, playing over her skin, reflecting off of her rings. She wondered how beautiful Morrigan would be, since she already looked magnificent in the dark.

“Are you happy to be out?” Morrigan asked, her voice soft. She had moved closer, but not so close that Isabella felt uncomfortable with it.

“I’m happy I will be able to see the sun,” Isabella said.

“I can scarcely recall how much I wanted to see the sun, but I remember how often we spoke about it.” Morrigan’s voice turned fond. “I can remember how much you wanted to see it. You would always say you’d die if you had to wait any longer.” She sighed. “I wanted to come back and get you after I got out. So that you could see the sun.”

Isabella forced her eyes opened so that she could look at Morrigan. The sun was bright and painful, but she squinted through it. “Why didn’t you?” Morrigan’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion. She clarified, “Why didn’t you come back?”

Morrigan bit her lip and sighed. “I didn’t think that you would’ve come with me. I thought that, maybe, you forgot about me. It seems I was wrong.”

Isabella squeezed her eyes closed, unable to manage the pain of the brightness for any longer. Why did Morrigan think that Isabella would’ve forgotten? They were best friends. They never went somewhere without the other. At night, they would gossip about all the different ladies who thought they were the height of fashion and the epitome of beauty. They’d laugh about it, all the while Isabella knew that Morrigan was, in fact, the most gorgeous person in Hewn City.

They were silent for another few minutes then Isabella finally made herself open her eyes. She blinked against the brightness, but the light stinging soon became nothing but background noise. She stumbled forward, grappling onto the the back of a chair for balance.

It was… breathtaking. More than beautiful. More than ecstasy. 

Through the windows that were actually just an absence of any walls, mountains stretched on for as far as the eye could see, capped with silvery snow. The sky was the most bluest blue. Clouds of fluffy white drifted across the sky at a leisurely pace, as if they didn’t have any destination. Birds cawed in the distance, the sound of them slowly fading away. The world had to be so, so vast. If this was just a fraction of what the world held, she couldn’t even imagine a what a quarter of it looked like.

And the sunlight. Oh, the sunlight was something else. It made the gold accents on the chairs shine in an almost molten way. The grey-veined marble floors were so pearly that she could see the reflection of the mountains in it. Then, there were the flowers, sitting perfectly in a crystal vase. 

Isabella couldn’t tear her eyes away from them as she moved around the chair to sit down. She leaned toward the flowers, raising her hand into the air. Her hand paused in the air, right above the flowers.

“You can touch them,” Morrigan said, startling her. She sat down on the chair across from Isabella, on the other side of the low table. “They’re bellflowers. You can take a few, if you really want. We have tons of them growing everywhere.”

Even with the encouragement, Isabella couldn’t make herself touch it. It was too perfect to ruin. She dropped her hands into her lap, but kept her eyes on the flowers. They were truly a marvel. She doubted anything could be more beautiful. That is, until she raised her eyes to Morrigan and saw how resplendent she was in the sunlight.

The orange of her gown seemed to be alive and glowing, swaying around her feet from the light breeze that made its way around the room. The silver of her jewelry gleamed, like drops of sunlight had been caught in the metal. The flowers… they were even more beautiful than the blue bellflowers. Maybe that was just because they were paired with the enthralling features of Morrigan’s near-glowing face.

“Can you die happy now that you’ve seen the sun?” Morrigan asked, grinning.

“Yes,” Isabella breathed, shifting in the chair to look outside.

She breathed in deeply, smelling the fresh air. She closed her eyes in pleasure as a breeze brushed over her face. It felt like a welcoming touch, as if it were saying, “Welcome to freedom. Welcome to life.” She wanted to melt into the air. She wanted to become the air and float away. See the world. Touch the snow cresting the mountains, learn how it felt. She wanted to see the ocean and feel the waves splashing against her skin. Smell the salt in the air. Feel the sand between her toes. 

There were so many things she hadn’t experienced that she now realized she ached to. For example, she wanted to feel what sun-warmed dirt felt like. She wanted to see a horse. Or a bird. Or any wild animal. Out here, there was animals and greenery and snow and rain and sun and clouds. So many different possibilities. Every day would be a masterpiece.

Morrigan stood up, the movement drawing Isabella’s eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Morrigan said. “I’m only going to finish up some work. Your bedroom is straight down those stairs and two doors to the left. Dinner will be served in three hours, but you can ask any of the servants for food if you’re hungry. If you need me or simply want to hang out, just have someone come get me. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“All right, Morrigan,” Isabella said, and Morrigan paused from where she was stepping around the chairs. She looked over her shoulder.

“Please, call me Mor. We’re not in Hewn City anymore. There’s no need to be so formal.” Morrigan’s grin softened to something more honest. The idea of calling her Mor was a bit unsettling, since it was so casual. Morrigan was right, though, she wasn’t in Hewn City anymore. The laws she went by there probably didn’t apply to life up here.

Well, if that’s what Morrigan wanted, then that’s what she would get. Even if the idea of being so casual with Lady Morrigan, Third in Command to the High Lord of the Night Court, was nearly painful.

Only when Isabella nodded her understanding did Morrigan turn around and leave down the hallway. Her heels echoed off of the walls, quickly followed by the swishing sound of her skirt. A few heartbeats later, the sound of her movement vanished. Too soon and abrupt for her to have entered a room. She must’ve winnowed to wherever she worked, then. Most likely Velaris, the city of starlight that had been hidden before its reveal two years ago.

Well, with Morrigan gone and nothing else to do but look outside or go check out her new room, she decided that it would be a good idea to check out her room. If it failed to impress, she could come back up here and look outside. 

Isabella got up and looked to the stairwell that was, indeed, right across from this little sitting area. She made her way down the stairs, then turned to the left and found the second door wide open. It was being aired out, she supposed. As every good room ought to be when someone new moved into it.

She ventured in, instantly calmed when the scent of lavender washed over her. There was a bed to the right, piled in so many blue and white coloured pillows that only half of the grey duvet was visible. All the furniture was a clean, white wood that filled the air with freshness. On both of the side tables and the dresser across from the bed, there were crystal vases holding the most beautiful flowers. In arrays of blues and whites and pinks. 

Everything smelled so beautiful. The air smelled pure and fresh and floral. Soft. Feminine. And the view, if possible, was even better than it was a floor up.

Like it was upstairs, there was a vacant spot where the wall was supposed to be. A breeze twisted into the room, bringing with it the scent of new, fresh air. Here, she could see how the snow settled over the tips of the trees. How, with a slight breeze, bits of the snow kicked up into the air and twisted like wisps of smoke. And, in one tree, she saw a bird of some type trying to create a nest and burrow deeper to where it would be warm. It moved quickly, frantically, but with such a natural grace that Isabella wondered if it was part faerie.

Then she moved over into the bathroom and appraised the elegant furniture. She didn’t recognize any of the toiletries that lined the counter top. Nor did she recognize any of them sitting on the ledge of the bath. The bath that looked like it was literally hanging off of the world. Oh, she was really looking forward to having a bath tonight. She’d be able to lay back, relax, and look up at the famous Night Court starry night sky.

This wouldn’t be so bad. Not at all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post until Monday, but I'm halfway through ACOSF and craving some Mor representation and I'm sure some of you feel the same. So I'm here to satiate that need, at least a bit.

## Chapter Four

After surveying her room, Isabella sat on one of the chairs littering the room and watched the horizon. She noticed every shift of snow and stray bird that flew through the air. Trees swayed in gentle breezes. It was calm and perfect. She could’ve fallen asleep right there, but she knew that she was expected to be at dinner with Morrigan sometime later that night. She didn’t know how soon, since she had completely lost track of time, but she expected she didn’t have time to nap.

Then, before she knew it, the sun was setting. 

If she thought that the mid-afternoon sun was gorgeous, then the sunset had to be a dream. Everything was awash in gold and orange, turning the snowy white landscape into something akin to molten honey. It even managed to turn her snow-white skin into something warmer. Like she was gilded with gold. If she could capture this moment in a bottle, she would. And she’d open it every night, just to get a taste of this perfect moment.

Then there was a knock at her door and a servant’s voice notifying her that dinner was served and Morrigan was waiting and the perfect moment dissolved.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. She did. She wanted to speak with her long-lost friend and get to know her as the woman she had become. But she worried that if she were to look away from the horizon for one second this perfect, golden moment would shatter and she’d never be able to touch it again. 

When Isabella didn’t respond for a few seconds, the servant knocked and announced that they were opening the door. The blue-skinned faerie stepped hesitantly into the room and stopped completely when she found Isabella was sitting in a chair and not laying dead somewhere.

“We have sunsets like this every night, miss,” the faerie said, slowly coming closer to where Isabella sat. As if she were some startled doe in need of coaxing to calm down. “You can watch it tomorrow, if you’d like.” Still, Isabella didn’t move, too mesmerized by the beauty of the world and of nature to even contemplate getting up. If Morrigan sent her back down to Hewn City because of it, then so be it. At least she would’ve gotten a glimpse of easiest the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

The faerie sighed. “I’ll notify Lady Morrigan that you’ll be late.” 

The door closed and Isabella was once again left alone with the sky. She stared for so long that she felt as if she had drifted into the sky itself and had become another cloud floating by. Then it was dark, and while the sky was exceptionally pretty, she couldn’t leave Morrigan for any longer. It would be pushing her kindness and hospitality a bit too far.

Isabella forced herself to get up and, without the helpful guidance of a servant, she made her way back upstairs. After a bit of sniffing the air and following the scent of savoury meat and spices, she found where dinner had been set up.

Morrigan stood next to the table piled high with delicious food. She had changed into a blue gown. A thin silvery material rested over the flowing layers of the gown, making it shimmer at every slight movement. Her golden hair, too, had been rearranged. Now, it hung freely around her shoulders in soft waves, perfectly framing her features. The orange flowers had been exchanged with some of those blue bellflowers from earlier. It pulled the whole look together, making her seem like a princess of the stars and night. It was fitting, she supposed.

“Sorry I’m late,” Isabella said the moment Morrigan’s eyes lifted to hers. “I was watching the sunset and I couldn’t make myself get up. It was too beautiful to walk away from.”

“I understand,” Morrigan said, standing to greet Isabella. Her smile was wide and genuine. “Even after these years, I’m still amazed by the sun. While I was waiting, I didn’t touch any of the food and thanks to some handy magic, it’s all still warm.”

Isabella sent a silent prayer to the Mother, thanking her for giving the Fae the magical ability to keep food warm. Without it, this meal and many others she’d had would’ve been disastrous. 

Morrigan sat down and Isabella followed suit, suddenly feeling very under dressed for this dinner. She should’ve changed into one of her fancier, more revealing evening gowns. Instead, she was wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked velvet gown with thick, heavy skirts. It was a dress fit for living in the coldest of temperatures. Not for elegant meals in a heated palace in the sky. She nearly laughed at the thought. She’d been so distracted by the outside that she’d forgotten basic etiquette. 

“Is something funny?” Morrigan asked, her tone light, making Isabella realize she’d been grinning like a mad-man all the while staring blankly at the table before her.

She shook her head and forced herself to make eye contact with Morrigan and not look at the wild grin on her painted lips. “Not particularly, no.”

“Then I’d love to find out what you look like when you’re truly amused,” Morrigan said, serving herself a glass of sparkling champagne. She took a sip from the tall glass to hide her ever-growing smile. Did she ever stop smiling? Not that Isabella was complaining, though. It was refreshing.

“I’m afraid that’ll take a while,” Isabella said, pouring herself some champagne. “Not many things amuse me anymore.”

Morrigan’s smile dimmed as she served herself some tender cuts of meat. The smile, however, returned a moment later with full force. “I think that’s a challenge.” She hummed, her smile turning mischievous. “By Winter Solstice, I’ll have you laughing at everything. If not, I’ll buy you a summer palace in the south.”

“I’m looking forward to owning a palace,” Isabella said, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She followed Morrigan’s lead and started serving herself, though she didn’t have any of her champagne. Her mother taught her that, even though it wasn’t common etiquette, she should wait to drink until the food was served. Then, when there was no food to eat to create breaks in a conversation, she could use the drink. That one small thing had made many horrible meals endurable. 

Morrigan propped her elbow on the table and pointed her fork at Isabella, breaking so many codes of mealtime etiquette that it was nearly painful. Isabella managed her panic, reminding herself that this was Morrigan’s dining table and she could do whatever she wanted. “Don’t underestimate how dedicated I will become to making you laugh.”

“That’s the kindest yet most aggressive thing anyone has ever said to me,” Isabella said, picking up the fork to poke at the food sitting across her plate. It’d be rude not to, considering Morrigan was already eating.

Morrigan put a hand on her chest and sighed. “I’m truly honoured.” She waved at the food, raising her eyebrows. “Now, eat up. You need the energy to be able to sit up all night and watch the sky. I know for certain that if the sunset amazed you that much, then the night sky will surely leave you breathless. I’ll even show you to a nice garden on the roof.”

Seeing the glint in Morrigan’s eye and knowing that she wouldn’t back down, Isabella picked up her knife and fork and started eating. The quicker she ate, the quicker she’d be able to see the night sky. She’d be able to see the stars in the sky. And she’d try to count them all, just like all the characters in the novels she read did. The only missing thing would be a romantic partner. More specifically, a stunning woman. Then, like the characters in the novels, they would make love and fall asleep with nothing but the starry night to witness their bliss.

Isabella winced and pushed those thoughts away. Dreams had no place in her life, especially not now. Not here. A new chapter of her life was starting and she couldn’t ruin it all by being stuck in her mind, daydreaming about things that would never happen. She could do that at another time when her life either crumbled to ash or when she had settled into this life. Then, and only then, could she let her mind wander. Until then, she had to live in the present reality. Not in an impossible fantasy.

“Before I forget,” Morrigan said, dabbing her lip. “I’ve checked out a meeting room in Hewn City two weeks from now. Your mother’s invited, since you seem to be quite close, but I can have your father come too, if that’s what you wish.”

Isabella shook her head and set down her cutlery. There was not a crumb left on her plate. It had been one of the best-tasting meals she’d ever had. “No, uh, Lord Ashborough and I aren’t close. He’s the one who wanted to marry me off in the first place. Mother, on the other hand, will really want to see me.” She folded her hands on her lap and made sure she looked Morrigan confidently in the eyes. “Thank you. For bringing me up here. For not forcing me to marry someone. For allowing me to be able to visit my mother even though you don’t have to.”

“I’m not cruel,” Morrigan said softly, as if she were afraid that Isabella was going to flee at any moment. “I haven’t changed that much in five-hundred years. You believe me, right?”

The more time she spent with Morrigan, the more she realized that Morrigan hadn’t really changed. She had evolved, become more comfortable in her own skin. She’d found her home, and she was confident in who she was. But Isabella was still lost. She hadn’t truly found herself yet, despite her five-hundred years of life. All the strict codes of life and the constant fear that her father would one day decide she needed to die kept her from flourishing.

Isabella bunched the material of her skirts in a hand and took a deep breath.

“I’m starting to,” Isabella said honestly. She waited for Morrigan to tell her that she had to go back to Hewn City, but those damning words never came from her lips. Instead, Morrigan merely nodded and took in a shaking breath. She poured herself a glass a champagne and drank nearly half of it in one swallow.

“All right,” Morrigan said, standing up. The half-empty glass of champagne was still in her hand. Surprisingly, there was no sign of all the alcohol she had consumed. At least outwardly. Isabella racked her mind for memories of how Morrigan had acted while she was drunk. From the deepest dregs of her memory, she remembered that Morrigan got either really happy or really sentimental. “Let’s go up to the garden. It’s lovely, especially at night. Don’t forget your champagne.”

Isabella stood, grabbed her glass of champagne, and followed Morrigan down the hallways. They rounded multiple corners and passed many cozy alcoves that Isabella wanted to climb into and and fall asleep. But Morrigan promised a lovely view, so she kept moving. They started climbing a set of stairs, and by the time they got to the top, her legs were burning in pain. As soon as they stepped through the doorway, it was all worth it.

Awe rooted her to the spot as she surveyed the garden. Unlike what she presumed a normal garden would look like in the dark, this one was glowing. Some of the petals shone a deep blue and other ones shone a blue so light it was nearly white. They were magical. Of course they were magical. This was a High Lord’s palace. Of course he would have a rooftop garden full to the brim with magical flowers.

“Do you like it?” Morrigan asked. Isabella couldn’t find the words to explain how she felt, so she merely nodded and stumbled forward a few steps. She added, “Look up.”

Isabella followed her command without any thought. Her arms slackened at her side and her mouth fell open. The night sky. It was… everything.

The stars looked like balls of captured silver fire suspended high up in the air. They were so bright she wondered how they didn’t light up the world the way the sun did. She wanted to reach up and pluck a star from the sky to keep for herself. Study its magnificence and absolute perfection. She wished to attach it to a chain and hang it around her neck. Hold it close to her heart for the rest of her life and maybe into eternity, as well.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” Morrigan sighed wistfully, drawing Isabella’s eyes down from the sky. She was holding both flutes of wine, thankfully. Because if she hadn’t, Isabella’s champagne would be spilled all over the black tiles. “I’ve spent so much time outside—out of the darkness of Hewn City—that I forgot how precious the sight of the sky could be.”

Isabella watched Morrigan’s profile, caressed lovingly by the moonlight. It took a moment, but Morrigan realized that Isabella had been watching. She held out Isabella’s glass of champagne and she took it, though she didn’t drink from it. She’d already had enough to drink at dinner, and she didn’t want to muddle her senses while she had the time to watch the sky. Especially not when there was such a quaint sitting area that Morrigan lead her to. 

Morrigan sat down on one of the couches and Isabella settled onto the chaise. She relaxed, resting her head on the back of it and folded her hand over her stomach. Over time, her eyes became heavy and her senses started to blur. When she couldn’t resist it anymore, she allowed herself to melt into the comfort of sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

## Chapter Four

Isabella woke to the full force of the sun on her eyes. She groaned, blinking out of the haze of sleep. The first thing she realized was that she wasn’t in the garden anymore. She was back in her bedroom. Covered in soft, heavy blankets that smelled of lavender and home. 

Which meant that, during dinner, servants had brought in Isabella’s packed items from the Hewn City. Apparently, Mother had thought that blankets were among the many things she had to send. And, of course, she was correct. The scent of lavender was one of the only things that made her sleep at night. Though it seemed that looking up at the night sky was able to put her to sleep, as well.

Isabella frowned. She should’ve bathed before getting into this bed. Granted, someone had put her in the bed so she wouldn’t have been able to bathe even if she wanted. Still, it was the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in and she never wanted to get up. She would gladly sink into the mattress and live there forever. People would call her the bed gremlin and she’d be the happiest person alive. Really, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. She did have a fantastic view of the mountain range stretching out right before her eyes.

Then, there was a knock on her door. She shuddered a sigh and pushed herself to her feet. On her way to the door, she grabbed the smooth green silk robe from the top of an opened trunk and threw it over her shoulders. She opened the door, smiling when she saw a green-skinned faerie with the most gorgeous green-leaf hair. It made her look like she’d just walked out of a painting.

“Hello miss Isabella,” she said, her voice gentle like a breeze. “My name is Moriah and I’ll be your assigned servant for as long as you decided to stay here. You can call upon me at any time, save for the hours between ten p.m. and six a.m. where the night-shift servants will be awake and can assist you. Breakfast will be served upstairs in forty minutes. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help you? Do you hair? Help you dress or bath?”

Isabella started to shake her head, then she paused and asked, “Is there anything I have to do today?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Moriah said. “Lady Morrigan’s schedule is full starting in an hour until just before dinner. There’s time for you to speak with her at breakfast. You can ask her if she has any plans for you then.”

Seeing that Isabella didn’t have anymore questions to ask, Moriah curtsied and left down the hallway. 

Isabella retreated into the bedroom. After some drifting around her room, taking items out of the many trunks littering the floor and putting them away, she decided to take a bath. The water, out of the tap, was already heated. So she soaked for a good fifteen minutes. She scrubbed her hair and her body, soaking up the almond-and-milk scented oils floating around in the water. By the time she stumbled out of the bath, she didn’t have time to do anything but slide on a deep red gown and pull her wet hair up into a bun.

She looked like a peasant girl, save for the expensive gown, but she didn’t have any time to dress better if she wanted to see Morrigan before she started her work day. Surely she wouldn’t mind, right? She had to put faith in the idea that Morrigan was the same person she’d been five-hundred years ago. And if she wasn’t, then Isabella would apologize and promise to dress better in the future.

Before the nagging voice in the back of her mind could convince her not to go to breakfast, she left her room and went upstairs. Breakfast was set at the same table that dinner had been, and Morrigan looked just as beautiful in yet another new, fantastical gown.

Today her gown was a lovely light blue silk. The bottom hem was decorated in flora embroidery, pale-coloured flowers nestled in green leaves and brown branches. There were even depictions of birds winding around the whole skirt, up to the matching silk band wrapped around her waist. Like the day before, she had three flowers pinned into the loose golden waves of her hair. Two pale pink flowers and one pale blue. They were perfect. But the bright smile on Morrigan’s lips was what made her truly gorgeous. 

Suddenly, Isabella felt very, very under dressed. She should’ve at least tried to put on some sort of jewelry or makeup. Leaving her hair down would’ve been better than tying it up. Holy Mother of all things good, she was really off her game.

“I’m sorry,” Isabella said quickly. “I should’ve gotten up earlier to get dressed. But I wanted to have breakfast with you so I sort of… rushed.”

Morrigan waved her hand through the air then gestured at the seat across from her. Isabella sat down, fidgeting with the layers of her skirt. Morrigan was so beautiful and perfect and she’d obviously put work into her outfit whereas Isabella had just stumbled out of the bath. She felt like a child sitting across from her. Which was quite funny considering that Isabella was actually a year older than Morrigan.

“Don’t worry about how you look. I couldn’t care less about proper clothing or hairstyles or etiquette. All that matters is that you’re comfortable and happy,” Morrigan said, the heavy sincerity in her words prompting Isabella to narrow her eyes. 

At the familiarity in Morrigan’s actions, unwanted memories and emotions rose to the front of her mind:

Touches that lingered for a second too long to be casual. Precious moments of exchanged glances filled with emotions too strong and foreign for their young minds to fully comprehend. Empty alcohol bottles and spilled words. A constant warmth in the pit of her stomach. Midnight dreams of running away with Mor to a world where they weren’t trapped in their strict roles of being daughters and property to be sold off to the highest bidder.

Isabella tried to brush those memories off, but she couldn’t. They were too real and the memories too fond to be pushed aside so easily. Instead, she tucked them into the back corner of her mind. She could take them out and examine them tonight, when she was alone and had time to really mull over them.

“What are you thinking about?” Morrigan asked, pulling Isabella out of her thoughts. Morrigan dropped a strawberry in her mouth and gestured to Isabella’s still-empty plate and glass.

“Nothing,” Isabella said and started to serve herself. There were so many different fruits that she couldn’t put a name to them all. She took a sampling of each fruit, pretending to be engrossed in all the different types. That seemed like a far better idea than having to explain to Mor what she had been thinking about.

“I know you’re thinking about something,” Morrigan said. Isabella sighed. She wasn’t going to let this drop. “You have that dazed look in your eyes. And you’re staring at the floor. Not the outside or the wonderful arrays of food in front of you or even the flowers in my hair, which you always look at. So—” Morrigan braced her arms on the table and leaned forward. “—what are you thinking about, Bella?”

Maybe it was the kind look in her eyes or the use of Isabella’s nickname, but the word just spilled out, “You.”

Morrigan hummed, looking slightly taken aback. She took in a deep breath and settled back in her chair. While she did, she picked up her glass of water and took a long sip of it. “I didn’t expect that.”

Isabella winced and lowered her eyes to the plate of food in front of her. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Morrigan said gently. “It’s fine. It’s good. Think about me all you want. I just wasn’t expecting that answer. And I’m sorry, but I have to go work now. Will I see you for dinner?”

“Yes,” Isabella said, raising her eyes to Morrigan as she stood up. “I’ll see you then.”

Morrigan grinned before she just… winnowed away. Without saying anything else. Had Isabella offended her in some way? Maybe she’d gone too far by telling Mor what she was really thinking about. She should’ve just said she was thinking about Hewn City. She didn’t have to unnecessarily embarrass herself like that. She didn’t have to put Morrigan into that situation. 

Mentally scolding herself, she realized that she hadn’t even asked Morrigan if she had to do anything that day. Now, Isabella had no idea what she was supposed to do for the rest of the day.

With nothing else to do, Isabella continued eating. She tasted all the wonderful fruits and nibbled on bits of soft bread. She watched the horizon and the hot sun beating down on the snow, causing some of the snow on the trees to melt. Birds came alive and fluttered through the air. Their song was like nothing she’d ever heard before. She could hear the patterns and intricacies. How each had a tone which was slightly different from the last. How the sound, if she were to try hard enough, could be replicated with her mouth.

“Hello.”

The purely male voice startled Isabella, making her to jump and turn around in one swift move. She froze when her eyes landed on General Cassian. 

Why was he here? Morrigan hadn’t said anything about him living here or even dropping by. Maybe he came here when Morrigan was gone on purpose. To steal her away and drop her back in Hewn City. The idea made her heart speed up. She’d beg him to let her have one more night here. One more time to glimpse the beautiful Night Court sky. Hopefully he’d have enough of a heart to at least give her that.

Then, she realized he didn’t look as terrifying as he did down in Hewn City.

Instead of a stone-cold glare and a tense posture, his hazel eyes and smiling mouth showed amusement while his posture was relaxed. He didn’t stare down at her, he looked at her. He wasn’t covered in weapons or even wearing any type of armour. Though he’d probably had them on at some point, because she could smell leather and fresh winds wafting off of him. She knew enough to know that it’d be impossible to fly in the loose top and pants he wore. He didn’t even wear shoes. Really, he looked like he’d just woken up.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice light and humorous. “I thought Mor would’ve still been here, but it seems she’s abandoned you.”

“Not abandoned, exactly,” Isabella said hesitantly, her whole body tensed. This could still be some type of ploy to make her more comfortable around him before he jumped on her. It was a good tactic, on paper, but she really didn’t appreciate it being used on her. “She has work.”

“Eh.” He shrugged and walked around the table to sit down in Morrigan’s chair, his large, impressive wings easily fitting around the thin back. His every move was smooth and precise, but not in the elegant way Mor did. It was like his every breath and slight movement was meant to remind her of who, exactly, he was and what he could do if he wished. It absolutely terrified her. “This is a fantastic breakfast with wonderful company, and she just ups and leaves.” He shook his head, plucking a grape off of the vine. He said in mock horror, “I can’t believe it.”

Isabella’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ve said less than six words. Respectfully, there’s no way you know if I’m good, let alone wonderful, company.”

The corner of his lip lifted in a smirk. “Maybe so, but Mor has told me enough about you that we’re practically best friends already.”

Her eyebrows bunched together. “She talks about me?”

“She did,” he clarified, reaching forward to take a closer look at all the food on the table. Even after nearly thirty minutes of nibbling, she still hadn’t put a dent in the pile of delicious-looking foods. “She mentioned you a few times for the first couple of weeks after she left Hewn City. It’s nice to finally match a face with the name.”

Isabella didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. She didn’t know if she should feel honoured that Morrigan decided Isabella was worthy enough to be talked about, or if she should feel weird that someone she only knew as a caricature knew so much about her. Both ideas had an even pull on her focus. It didn’t take long for a new, more prominent, thought started to bloom: Mor hadn’t left Isabella in the past like she had with everything else in Hewn City.

She sighed and looked down to her hands in her lap. Isabella felt guilty for not talking about Morrigan with anyone. Especially with Mother, who had to be the best secret-keeper in all of Hewn City. Then she could’ve preserved Morrigan’s memories in a more pure way. More people would know about how kind she had actually been.

“Since you’re working for Mor,” Cassian said, pulling Isabella’s attention back up to him, “and she’s my family, you’re family too. That means I will, for one, protect you, and two, annoy you to the point where you want to push me off the side of the mountain.”

Isabella blinked but said nothing, instead shifting her focus to the fruit she’d piled onto to her plate while Cassian was speaking. At least she’d have something to do while he watched her.

She didn’t know what to say. Of course, she’d heard whispered rumours about the Court of Dreams and how the High Lord and his Inner Circle became completely different people when they weren’t visiting Hewn City, but she’d never believed them. They were just rumours. Nobody could change so drastically. Yet again, Morrigan had switched from being emotionally distant to being considerate and Cassian had changed from a hardened killer to someone who threatened friendship, of all things. She’d be a fool to completely disregard those rumours. After all, every rumour stemmed from some kernel of truth, and she’d be stupid if to ignore that, too.

Noticing that Isabella wasn’t really up to talking, Cassian merely ate and looked outside. She wondered what he saw in the horizon. Did he see the birds like she did, or did he simply take in the whole picture? Did he see the beauty or had his centuries of life dulled him to its magnificence? If the latter was the case, she felt sorry for him and for herself in that one faraway day where she no longer took time to appreciate it.

Disrupting the silence they’d settled into, Cassian said, “I don’t want to be another Morrigan, but I have some work I need to attend to.” He stood up, stealing an apple as he did so. “I will return in a few days, however, and hopefully Mor hasn’t run you away by then.”

She didn’t watch him walk away, but she knew that he had gone down a set of stairs before the sound of his footsteps faded. No randomly disappearing from him, which made her a bit more comfortable with the idea of him being around. This way, she’d be able to keep her eyes open and not worry about him appearing in places where it would be physically impossible to get to without her noticing.

After two hours of sitting and doing nothing, she decided that it’d be smart to get up and do something else. It would also give the poor servants a chance to tidy up the table and eat all the leftovers. They’d probably been waiting for it all morning.

She wandered down the stairs and slowly made her way back to her bedroom. With nothing else to do, she started to unpack the trunks that her servant, Moriah, hadn’t touched. They were mainly personal things, like books and some stationary items, along with a few miscellaneous scribbled-on pieces of paper that she recalled had been scattered around her room. Whoever had packed her stuff hadn’t held back. They’d packed everything.

Did that mean—

She couldn’t move fast enough or look through the trunks in a swift enough manner. Her blood buzzed with anticipation, her excitement barely contained in her small frame. The longer she looked, her excitement started to turn into anxiety and then into disappointment, even though she hadn’t looked though all of the trunks. But, it seemed fate still favoured her, because she found exactly what she’d been looking in the bottom of the last trunk: a puzzle.

Few existed in the Hewn City thanks to the way everyone scoffed at anything to due with art, but someone had to make them, and it just so happened that Mother was one them. When she wasn’t busy doing lady-like stuff or governing her land, she’d hide away in her study and work on them. She did the painting and the cutting. One of her servant’s did the selling, though, lest the common people realize that their reigning lady was a crafter. For some reason, it’d absolutely ruin her image. Isabella couldn’t understand why; it was an admirable skill.

Sometimes Isabella wished she had even one artistic bone in her body, but other times, she’d rather enjoy the art instead of making it. Especially when it looked like it required a hell of a lot of work.

Isabella grabbed the dark wooden box and shook it slightly, a smile coming unbidden to her mouth. Now she knew exactly what she was going to do all day. 

She made her way upstairs and sat down in the first alcove she saw. With a beautiful view and a relaxing activity to do over the next six or seven hours, she settled down and resigned herself to a day of tranquillity. 


	6. Chapter 6

## Chapter Six

The hours ticked by like minutes and before she knew it, the sky was turning darker and night was approaching. She sank into the couch, wrapped up tightly in a large, soft blanket. Whenever she saw a piece that could go into place, she reached out of her blanket home and put it in with a satisfying snap. 

The image—a clandestine pair of lovers underneath a tree—was nearly finished, save for about ten pieces. It’d be real easy to just lean forward and put them all in place, but she was tired. And lazy. And she just wanted to melt into the couch and sleep. But it was only six at night and she still had to have dinner with Morrigan, whenever she came back from work. With the way things were going, Isabella would probably fall asleep long before either dinner was served or Mor returned.

Isabella’s eyes started to drift closed, but just on the edge of sleep, she heard Morrigan’s voice, loud and cheerful. “According to the servants, you’ve been sitting here all day.”

She opened her eyes as Mor sat down on the couch across from her, far more graceful than she had the right to be when Isabella felt like a glorified lump of meat. She groaned to hide the laugh bubbling up her throat, but she couldn’t hide the smile. It seemed it was contagious, because Morrigan smiled, too. That smile brightened the whole room.

Though it wasn’t bright enough to stop Isabella from seeing Morrigan’s more relaxed attire. In place of her extravagant gowns and hair that looked like it took hours to do, she wore a flowing dark blue gown and her hair rested freely around her shoulders. No impressive braids or curls, no piles of jewelry draped over every bit of exposed skin. She was glad, however, to see two flowers matching the colour of the dress tucked in her hair, almost as a last thought, but not quite. 

That didn’t mean that Morrigan wasn’t elegant or beautiful, because Isabella doubted Mor would ever be considered anything but the most enchanting person in a room. This simplicity almost made her look… better. She looked more informal, and while that in itself wasn’t anything of note, her complete comfort with it was.

Someone of her rank wasn’t supposed to be seen by the public eye as anything but perfect, especially around their staff. And that’s what Isabella was: staff. Not a friend or confidant. Though it didn’t seem to bother Morrigan. To be fair, Mor didn’t seem to bother with any of the normal courtly decorum. Still, it was strange. Mor had never dressed this casual in front of her, especially in Hewn City when her every move was watched and judged by everyone with a pair of eyes.

Noticing that Morrigan was watching her, waiting for an answer, Isabella searched her memory for what Mor had said. She said, “At least up here I can burn the day away looking outside. Back home the most interesting thing in my day was trying to guess what I would have for supper.”

“Really? You didn’t have any friends to hang out with or some trouble to scrounge up?” Morrigan asked, one of her hands absently fiddling with one of the flowers in her hair.

“I have people I talk to from time to time, but no friends. Not like we were,” Isabella said, shrugging and plucking at the blanket. “And if I got into any trouble at all, Lord Ashborough would’ve made me live with him full-time or marry me off without consultation from anyone. So I’ve lived a very quiet, solitary life.”

“That’s too bad. I was excited to hear some wild stories after a long day at work, but I suppose I’ll have to suffer without them.” Morrigan sighed dramatically and slumped against the back of the couch. “However, a calm evening does sound exciting, too.”

“I think exciting is the wrong word,” Isabella said and Mor hummed in thought, sitting up straight.

“Let me rephrase that,” Morrigan said. “A calm evening sounds inviting.”

Isabella smiled and nodded, casting aside the blanket. She quickly readjusted her skirts so that none of her skin was exposed and slid off the couch to kneel in front of the table. Now kneeling on the floor and closer to the puzzle, she was able to easily sort the remaining pieces into colours and shapes.

As Isabella worked on the puzzle, she absently asked, “What did you do for work today?”

“It was one long council meeting with the rest of the Inner Circle. We only got a twenty minute lunch break. But I don’t have any work for the next three days, so it’s not the end of the world,” Mor said, then joined Isabella on the floor. She propped her chin on her fists and looked over the puzzle, her hands hovering over it but never touching. As if she knew how precious it was to Isabella and how upset she got whenever anyone messed with it.

“If you’re so used to being busy, then what are you going to do for the next three days?” Isabella asked, clicking in another piece then looking up at Morrigan.

That made Morrigan pause for a moment to think. “I’m sure I’ll find things to do, especially with you here.” A few seconds passed and she gasped and clapped her hands together, startling Isabella. She offered an apologetic smile. “I have an idea: Let me bring you to Velaris for a few days. It’s absolutely stunning there, you’d love it. And it would give us time to get to know each other before you officially start working for me.”

Isabella fiddled with a piece of the puzzle, trying not to let her worry show to prominently on her face. 

A trip to Velaris, the City of Starlight and Dreams, sounded too good to be true. She wanted to scream yes, I’ll go at the top of her lungs, but she couldn’t. The High Lord and High Lady would be there. The Spymaster would be there. General Cassian would be there. Everyone that Isabella had grown up fearing would be there, so close that she’d be breathing the same air. Maybe she’d even have to speak to them. No amount of etiquette could prepare her for that. 

“I have an apartment right next to the ocean,” Mor said, her tone light, trying to convince Isabella to agree to go. As if Morrigan couldn’t tell Isabella they were going to Velaris and she’d have no choice but to go. “Nobody should live their life without seeing the ocean. Plus, the sunsets are gorgeous. The sky reflects beautifully on the water. Please, Bella, you only have to come this once. If you don’t like Velaris or the people there, you never have to go again.”

Still, Isabella wasn’t sure she wanted to go. There were too many ways for her to mess up and accidentally make an enemy of the most powerful people in the Night Court. It would be devastating. Not only because she wouldn’t be able to see Morrigan anymore, but because she’d be sent back to Hewn City and undoubtedly forced to marry some low-born male, at best. At worst, she’d be tortured and killed for disrespecting someone of such esteem.

However, when Isabella saw the hope shining in Mor’s eyes, all doubt fell away. So what if she was cast back to Hewn City? Just the idea of seeing that hope being snuffed out was nearly painful.

“Fine,” Isabella said, sighing. “I’ll go.”

Morrigan grinned and jumped to her feet, as if the extent of her excitement couldn’t be contained inside of her, glowing like the sun itself. Isabella never thought that pure joy could make someone look so… alive. Nor had she ever imagined that someone else’s joy could make her feel happy to the point where she felt like bursting. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She felt like a fool.

“We’ll leave tomorrow at ten, so you have time to eat breakfast and get dressed,” Mor said, crouching down to be at Isabella’s eye level. “These are going to be the best three days ever, I promise. I can’t wait to show you all the fanciest restaurants and the cutest stores. There are also some nice lookouts all around Velaris where you can look at the ocean and the mountains and the forests. I know you’ll love it there.”

Isabella’s chest warmed and her heart skipped a beat. Mor’s excitement was enough to convince Isabella that this would be the best three days ever. They’d have fun, damn the consequences. Isabella only had one life and there was no reason why she shouldn’t pull every ounce of enjoyment from it. It’d be a waste if she didn’t.

“You’re really happy,” Isabella observed, the words falling from her lips. 

Mor shrugged a shoulder, her smile only growing. “Of course I am. You get to see my home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope all of you are enjoying this story! I have plenty of it already written that I'm currently editing, and once I've finished, I will continue writing. I look forward to seeing what all of you think about the rest of the story.


	7. Chapter 7

## Chapter Seven

Isabella woke the next morning before the sun, ready but anxious for the day ahead. Every breath caught in her throat and her pulse hammered in her chest.

She had already packed enough clothes for three days. Well, enough clothes for a fancy three days. A morning dress, a day dress, and an evening dress. For each day. She doubted she’d wear them all, but one could never be over-prepared. At least, that’s what Mother had taught her, and Mother was rarely ever wrong, especially when it came to social decorum. She had been a lady of the court for nearly seven hundred years.

She was excited to see Morrigan in a place that she so casually called home. To see how Mor looked when she was truly at ease with herself. She knew that those thoughts were just dreams, but Velaris was the city of dreamers. Maybe, just this once, one of her dreams would come true.

Isabella held onto that dream instead of letting worry overtake her senses. 

Morrigan was a very kind, very considerate person. There was no way she’d intentionally bring Isabella into a situation where she’d be set up for failure. In any case, Mor trusted Isabella enough to bring her into the Inner Circle’s safe haven. To show her the place that the High Lord and High Lady proudly called their home, their City of Starlight. 

Among the worry that the thought had caused, there was a kernel of warmth, too. Morrigan trusted her.

The sun was rising, a veil of pinks and purples laying over the dark blue of the night sky. The stars were fading away, taking the pale blue glow of starlight with them, leaving the sky in limbo. It was too dark to be classified as day and too bright to be called morning. She supposed that one would call it dawn, but to her it simply felt like a moment of uncertainty. As if the world couldn’t choose between night or day. 

No matter what she decided to call it, it caused unease to settle in the pit of her stomach. Her emotions, too, were uncertain, washing between excitement and worry and dread. She was restless, pacing around her room until she thought she’d wear a hole through the marble floor.

She’d already bathed and had her servant, Moriah, get her dressed in a fine dark purple silk gown and do her hair up in a sweeping design of curls and crystal pins. Her things were packed and ready by the door. Breakfast wasn’t going to be served for another two hours and they wouldn’t be leaving for another hour after that. There was nothing else to do.

As the last star dissipated along with the last stretch of pure night, Isabella let herself out of her room. She allowed herself to drift up the stairs and wander over to the sitting area. Idly, she finished up the puzzle, took it apart, and packed it away in its special container. 

When she finished doing that, she still had time to burn. So she paced, and paced, and paced. Then Morrigan appeared in the hallway, and Isabella fell completely and utterly still.

She wasn’t wearing anything extravagant or even a dress at all. She wore a pair of black leggings and a matching short-sleeved top. Sweat gleamed on her skin and darkened pieces of hair that had escaped from the simple, tight bun it was in. She smiled in a free way as she unwrapped white bandages from around her hands. Her heartbeat was still fast, her breaths still uneven.

She’d only just finished her workout, then, and was coming back in to get ready for the day. For some reason, Isabella felt like she was encroaching on a private moment. This was a far detachment from the perfect, poised version of Mor that she had come to know over the last few days.

“Good morning,” Morrigan said, her breaths evening out. 

“Morning,” Isabella said, watching as Morrigan cast the white bandages aside with the help of magic. She readjusted her pants and pulled down her top. Tidying herself up and giving herself time to manage her pounding heart and breaths.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early,” she said, pulling a small hand-towel out of thin air with the help of magic. She patted her face and rubbed it on the back of her neck.

“Me neither,” Isabella said. “I guess I’m too excited to sleep.”

Morrigan’s smile grew. “Right? I didn’t have another workout scheduled until tomorrow, but I couldn’t stay still. I had to do something.”

“At least you have a way to expel that energy. All I have is pacing.” Isabella threw her arms out to gesture to the sitting area.

“Well, if you’re really that excited to go to Velaris, I can have a bath and get dressed, we can eat breakfast, then we can leave right away.” Mor looked truly thrilled at the idea. “If you’re packed and ready to go, of course,” she added.

“I’m ready to go whenever,” Isabella said, choosing her words carefully. Just because Morrigan was kind didn’t mean that Isabella shouldn’t follow the most basic social etiquette.

Mor’s face lit up. “Great. Perfect. It’ll take me an hour to get ready.” She lowered her voice, “It takes time for me to get dressed and look beautiful.” Isabella would argue that Morrigan looked beautiful right now, but she didn’t think that would be the proper thing to say. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said, then offered Isabella a wide smile and continued on down the hallway.

And so for the next hour, Isabella paced around the sitting room and watched as it started to snow. An enchanting, mystical thing that she swore was pure magic, but she knew from childhood lessons it wasn’t. She watched as the fluffy flakes twisted through the air, covering the trees and the ground in a dusting of white. She wanted to touch it, feel it on her skin. However, she knew that snow was cold and freezing. Though that didn’t stop her from being very tempted to risk the cold, just so that she could feel the snow.

Isabella would’ve stood there and watched it snow for many more hours, but Morrigan was there, looking as if she were an ice princess, asking if she was ready for breakfast. They started down the hallway toward the breakfast table, all the while Mor spoke about what she had planned for the day. 

Isabella hardly heard what Mor was saying, because she was too distracted by her stunning gown. 

There were crystals all along the bottom hem of the grey cashmere gown. They shimmered with every slight movement, catching the light and sending it splashing across the hall. Her blond hair hung in free, bouncing curls to the small of her back, a single silver clasp holding her hair back out of her face. A light blue flower was nestled behind her ear. For a split moment, Isabella wished to wear the dress, but she knew that it wouldn’t look as good on her as it did on Mor.

“Isabella,” Morrigan said, raising her voice and finally drawing Isabella’s attention after what must’ve been multiple attempts. They were now standing by the breakfast table, Morrigan’s eyebrows drawn together. “Where did you go?”

Isabella shook her head and sat down, Morrigan following her lead. “I was just… thinking. Very intently.”

“So intently that you didn’t hear anything I said?” Mor asked, propping her elbow on the table and resting her chin on a fist. Isabella winced and nodded, hoping that Mor saw how apologetic she felt. “Thinking about me again?”

Morrigan smiled mischievously, as if, no mater what Isabella said, she already knew the truth. Isabella didn’t doubt it, but she shook her head and said, “I’m afraid not,” anyway.

Mor simply nodded and leaned back in her chair. “Too bad,” she said, that mischievous smile growing. “Let’s eat.”

Then that’s what they did: ate. They ate and talked and watched as the snow turned heavier and the wind picked up, making it nearly pure-white outside. According to Mor, it was colder and snowing more than it normally did this late in March. Isabella couldn’t complain, though, because she enjoyed being able to see the liveliness of the weather. Though she did still look forward to the warmer seasons, where she could feel sun on her skin.

Breakfast seemed to go by very quick, with neither of them speaking too much. To be fair, they were both excited to go to Velaris. Isabella had to admit that Morrigan seemed to be more excited than she was, but it didn’t matter. She looked fresh and joyful and gorgeous. And that was enough for Isabella to be excited, too.

They finished breakfast, stood up, and Morrigan extended her hand to winnow them to the other side of the Night Court. Isabella’s heartbeat was fast and her palms were sweaty, her worries overtaking every positive emotion.

“It’s all right,” Mor said, keeping her hand extended. Her smile never wavered. “You don’t have to leave the apartment until tomorrow after you’ve settled in. It’s snowy and miserable, anyway. It’s not very pleasant to walk through Velaris when the weather is wild like this, I assure you.”

Those reassuring words, that steady smile—she couldn’t hold back. She put her hand in Mor’s and allowed herself to be winnowed away to the City of Starlight.

  


The first thing that Isabella noticed when they finished winnowing was the slightly chilly air. It nipped at her skin and caused hairs to stand on edge. As she came to her senses, she realized that she had been transfered to an ornate room, not a cold, cavernous hall.

Morrigan stepped away from Isabella first, giving her time to survey the small apartment. “I’m sorry it’s cold. It’ll warm up now that the wards sense we’re here.”

Isabella nodded, the slight cold already becoming nothing but background noise. She took a hesitant step forward, a smile slowly spreading across her lips.

The apartment—which was more like a bedroom considering the lack of kitchen or separate rooms—was elegant and simple, yet extravagant and over the top. The floors were smooth marble, the walls painted a subtle grey, and one wall made out of nothing but windows. Though them, she could see the bare-bones of an impressive stone balcony, the white-out blizzard, as Mor had called it, obstructing her view of anything else.

To the far right of the room, there was a small dark-wooden table with enough chairs to fit four people. Along the back wall, there was a singular large four-posted bed. Thin pale blue curtains were held against the poles, and Isabella knew that once they were untied they would create a thin wall around the bed. The bedding was similar to the one she had back at the palace above the mountain, though there were far less pillows. The proper amount of pillows that a bed should have.

At the end of the bed, there was a cream ottoman, a few blankets piled on the side. Just past that, there was a small sitting area. On the low-lying table in the centre of the chairs and couch, there was a vase full of many different colours and types of flowers. Pink and blue and white and yellow. They were truly beautiful.

“I promise that the view is far better when it isn’t snowing like this,” Morrigan said, stepping forward to be in Isabella’s eye sight.

“I believe you,” Isabella whispered in awe, turning around in one spot to look at all the paintings hanging on the walls.

She’d always been fascinated with paintings. They’d showed her the outside world when the most diverse scenery she’d ever seen was a different shade of rock. She got to see a world full of colour and peace and hope. Where children giggled and climbed sturdy trees. Where lovers had romantic picnics in fields of golden flowers. 

It was her first exposure to dreaming, she realized, when she’d seen those scenes. As a teenager, she would sit in her mother’s gallery and look at those paintings, imagining herself as the carefree child with a doting father making sure they didn’t get carried away in the crystal blue waters of a river or the innocent farm girl being cradled by a male lover underneath a starry sky. 

Then she had matured and started reading romance and adventure novels. She’d been able to pretend, for a moment, that she could travel the world. See the oceans and pick apples from an orchard and walk through a field of bright flowers swaying in a light summer breeze. She could fall in love with whoever she wished and spend the rest of her life with them. She could make up a whole new world and live in it for hours, or days, at a time. 

All the stresses of reality would melt away, and it’d be perfect. For a while. Then the dream would fall apart and reality would come crashing in, suffocating her. 

Right now, she felt captured in a dream. Her life was too perfect. Too many good things were happening. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. Morrigan had hired her, she had seen the outside world, and now she was in Velaris, the City of Starlight, home to the Court of Dreams. 

She knew that it would soon all come crashing down around her. She’d be cast back to Hewn City and forced to marry someone she hated. Until then, she’d enjoy it.

“Do you like the room?” Morrigan asked, grinning so wide that it looked like she was about to burst at the seams with joy. She asked the question, but it was clear she already knew the answer. 

“I love the paintings,” Isabella said, gesturing at the closest one. It depicted an outdoor dining area cast in dim candlelight, the patrons perpetually raising their glasses to the star-speckled night sky. “They remind me of when I was younger.”

Morrigan hummed, catching Isabella’s eyes. “I remember you telling me about how you’d always daydream about the people and places in the paintings. Do you still do that?” Isabella’s eyebrows bunched together in confusion. Mor clarified, “Do you still dream about a better world?”

Her voice was soft and tense with hope. It’d be painful to let Morrigan down, so it was a good thing that she didn’t have to.

“Yes,” Isabella admitted, and Mor’s face broke open, joy showing in her every feature. Mor’s hand twitched toward Isabella, as if she wanted to reach out and grab onto her but had thought better of it before she got too far. Isabella appreciated that, but, to be honest, she wouldn’t have been mad if Morrigan had taken her hand. She actually quite liked the idea of it, though she’d never admit that aloud.

“That’s amazing,” Morrigan said lightly, though the look in her eyes made it clear it was anything but a light topic. “I’m going to go make sure that the servants bring your things. Then I have to check in with Rhys and Feyre, because he’s always whining about how I never take time to visit. He’s insufferable.”

Isabella didn’t let herself be intimidated by Mor’s such casual mention of the High Lord and High Lady. Mor was casual about everything, always playing down large situations just to make people feel comfortable. However, Isabella didn’t think she was playing this down. Especially not with the ease of the words. It was probably just some casual visit between cousins and not some courtly affair. 

“When will you be back?” Isabella asked, already dreading having to sit in this room for the whole day, doing nothing. Of course, she’d find something to do, but she’d rather talk to Mor. She always had the most interesting things to talk about and she made even the dullest topics enjoyable.

Mor shrugged, casting a glance around the room. Her nose scrunched, as if she just realized how boring it would be for Isabella. “Sometime before lunch.”

“All right.” 

Isabella was hesitant to let her go, but Morrigan had things to do. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her away from her work. Not to mention the fact that Isabella wasn’t even in a position to ask that she stay. Mor still outranked her, no matter what either of them did to pretend she didn’t.

So Morrigan left, and Isabella was once again alone with her own thoughts. At least this time she had a new room to explore and new paintings to look at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are all of you enjoying this story? I sure am.


	8. Chapter 8

## Chapter Eight

While Isabella waited for Morrigan to return, she paced around the room, looked at the paintings, and watched as the outside world swirled in an endless white.

She got so caught up in the beauty of the snowstorm that she hardly noticed when there was a knock at the door. When she answered, the lovely faerie servant was extremely understanding and took her time bringing in the two trunks that Isabella had packed and setting the table for two. They talked as she did so, patiently answering Isabella’s every question no matter how odd it sounded.

No, the weather wasn’t always like this. _Yes_ , the balcony has an amazing view. _Soon_ , the storm would stop. _Yes_ , Morrigan did rent the apartment, though she rarely ever visited.

Only when another servant showed up with food did the faerie make an excuse to leave. Isabella watched as the servant laid the table with amazing-smelling food and requested wine when he asked what she’d want to drink. He returned with a bottle of white wine and filled two cups with water that he swore would remain cold until she drank every last drop.

Isabella sat down for only five minutes before Morrigan came through the door.

Snow speckled her hair and her new change of clothes: Black pants, knee-high leather boots, and a tan woollen coat that reached mid-thigh. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and Isabella had to guess the tip of her ears were pink, as well.

She groaned, shrugging off her coat and throwing it aside to reveal a red-knitted top, a simple gold necklace and a matching bracelet as the only jewelry on her. “It’s freezing out there. It’s a hellscape. I feel like my fingers are going to fall off. This is miserable. Winter’s horrible,” she grumbled. Morrigan kept rambling as she tugged her boots off, threw them to the side, and started toward the table. “It’s mid-March and there’s a _blizzard_. Why? Just why.”

Morrigan slumped into the chair across from Isabella. Isabella held the glass of water in front of her lips in an effort to hide her smile. “Maybe the weather’s out for your blood.”

“Maybe,” Morrigan agreed, her half-frown turning into a soft smile when she looked at Isabella. “I wouldn’t take that off the list of possibilities.” After a few heartbeats, Morrigan readjusted herself in the seat and grabbed the glass of water in front of her and took a long swallow of it. “Anyway, I have so many ideas of what we could do tomorrow. But if the weather continues to be a pain in my ass, we’ll have to figure something else out.”

“You probably have friends to go hang out with,” Isabella said, and started to serve herself. “I’m used to having to find things to do.”

Morrigan tilted her head, her hair cascading over a shoulder. “I always have friends to hang out with, but I said I’m going to spend my free days with you. And—I don’t know if you remember—I _never_ lie about that sort of thing.”

No, Morrigan never did lie about those things. If she had to be honest, she hated the idea of having to spend tomorrow alone, so she was more than happy that she’d be able to spend it with Morrigan. There was no one she’d rather spend the day with.

Lunch had to have been one of the best-tasting meals she’d ever eaten. There were so many delicious spices and wonderful foods she’d never had access to in Hewn City. Not to mention Morrigan’s wonderful company and all the stories she told about Velaris.

She talked endlessly about all of the clothing boutiques and jewelry stores and how she had to buy Isabella at least one full outfit, underwear and all, while they were there. Apparently, it’d be a failed visit to Velaris if she didn’t, so there was no use objecting to it. Then she spoke of the wandering streets and the many performers that lined them, singing and dancing and playing instruments. She created a grand image of extravagant music halls and art galleries that had so many paintings that Isabella wouldn’t be able to see them all even if she spent a whole year in the city.

As time wore on and as Isabella heard more and more stories, all her worry seemed to disappear.

If the city was as amazing as Mor made it out to be, any mistake she could possibly make would be worth it. The glimpse of beauty and perfection she got would be enough for a lifetime.

After lunch wrapped up, Morrigan helped Isabella unpack. Well, Morrigan tried to help but Isabella didn’t let her, so instead she commented on all her different gowns. She smiled and laughed and teased about how she wanted to steal a few of them.

It felt normal and easy, like it had been over five-hundred years ago when they had been best friends. There wasn’t a class divide between them, all those ranks and arbitrary hierarchies dissolving until they were just two people, alive and free. It had been precious and perfect and then Morrigan had just… disappeared. Leaving her completely and utterly alone.

Isabella paused and squeezed her eyes closed, fisting the skirts of a blue dress.

A pang of guilt washed through her body when she realized she was still mad at Mor for that. She had to remind herself it wasn’t Morrigan’s fault. She’d been married off, then somehow got out of that, only to become a prestigious member of the Night Court’s Inner Circle.

It wasn’t her fault that Isabella hadn’t made any other friends. It wasn’t her fault that she’d never come back, even to say goodbye. It was just fate being a pain in the ass. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Is something wrong?” Morrigan asked.

Isabella shook her head and opened her eyes, moving to hang the dress up in the wardrobe alongside the many others.

“Can I have a hint, at least?” Morrigan pushed, sitting down on the plush cream ottoman at the end of the bed, brushing aside the blankets piled on top of it. She leaned against the armrest and looked up at Isabella, leaving her features open to show the sincere concern there.

Isabella sighed and bit her bottom lip. She didn’t really want to open up, but the whole reason they were taking this visit was for the both of them to get closer. The least she could do, as Morrigan had asked, was give a hint.

“Just… memories of when you left,” Isabella admitted, looking down at the ground. She felt Mor’s eyes on her.

“Bella,” Mor said hesitantly, moving to sit on the armrest. “I regret not visiting you earlier. I regret not telling you I was leaving. I can’t change everything I didn’t do, but I can change what I will do. And what I will do is not leave you again.” She sighed. “I know you, and I know that you need more than words to take something as truth. So I will show you, for as long as you need, that I’m not leaving.”

Isabella forced her eyes closed as her breaths quickened and her chest tightened. When they were teenagers, no one had known Isabella more than Morrigan. It seemed that, even now, Mor remained the one person who knew Isabella more than anyone else ever could.

“Look,” Mor said and Isabella opened her eyes to see her standing up. “It’s not snowing anymore. You can see the ocean.”

Isabella raised her eyes to the wall of windows, a gasp escaping her lips when she laid her eyes on what rest beyond. She stepped forward, moving closer to the windows, Mor following closely behind her. She set her hands on the glass, not caring that it was near-frozen. If she wasn’t afraid that she’d turn to ice, she’d go outside on the balcony, just to get closer to the fantastic view.

The ocean was like a sheet of glass, reflecting the watery sunlight poking through the thick storm clouds, disrupted only by the turbulent waves. The waves rushed toward her only to break on the rocky cliff below the balcony. The water sprayed, holding crystal-like sunlight caught in the droplets, and landed on the fresh, fluffy snow covering the balcony. The water immediately melted the snow, causing wisps of steam to rise into the air.

That lead Isabella to believe that it was hot, but she knew otherwise. Snow couldn’t be hot, nor could the water. The ocean was too vast to be warmed by a single ray of sunlight. At least that’s what she had been taught and her tutors hadn’t been wrong about anything else.

“The sun’s coming out,” Mor commented, coming to stand beside Isabella. She pulled her hand away from the glass, her fingers almost numb from the cold.

Yes, the sun was coming out. There were small breaks in the clouds that exposed stretches of blue sky. The clouds moved like milk in a cup of tea, slowly dissolving to make way for something new. Soon, the sun was beating down, turning the smooth white snow into something that nearly blinded Isabella when she looked at it. She stumbled away from the window and closed her eyes, hoping that it hadn’t actually blinded her.

“This means we might be able to go out for dinner,” Morrigan said, sounding genuinely excited. Isabella opened her eyes. At the sight of Mor’s beaming smile, she arched a brow. “Stay here, I need to go find you some pants and boots and gloves and a cloak. A good old-fashioned cloak.” She was practically jumping out of her skin at this point. “You can wear one of your dresses, but it has to be long-sleeved and a high neck. So you don’t freeze.”

Isabella nodded slowly, watching as Morrigan hurriedly tugged on her boots and practically threw on her coat, barely managing to pull on her gloves as she reached for the doorknob.

“You aren’t going to buy all that stuff, are you?” Isabella asked, stopping Mor, her hand still on the doorknob. She threw a look over her shoulder, the mischievous smile on Mor’s lips making Isabella wonder why she had bothered to ask in the first place. She already knew what the answer would be.

“Of course,” Mor said before she slipped out through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted for a while. I've been in this rut of depression and haven't gotten up enough motivation to write/edit for the last while. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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